


Home Is Where The Hugs Are

by kultiras, pyroblaze18 (kultiras)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Clint's Great At Hugs, Community: trope_bingo, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Phil Needs a Hug, Role Reversal, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-23
Updated: 2013-08-23
Packaged: 2017-12-24 09:40:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/938438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kultiras/pseuds/kultiras, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kultiras/pseuds/pyroblaze18
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been a long few days, and Phil's had enough. He could really use a hug right about now…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home Is Where The Hugs Are

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ralkana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ralkana/gifts).



> Happy Birthday, [Ralkana](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ralkana)!!!
> 
> You gave me the prompt of "Clint/Coulson, clinging" for the Cuddle Meme on tumblr. I hope you like the story!
> 
> This is definitely not based on anything I have personal experience with… >.>

It had been a long day. Between overseeing the debriefing of the clusterfuck the last mission had devolved into, and handling his regular—rather extensive—workload for the day, Phil was just done. He wanted to just get home, drop everything, drink some beer, and curl up on the sofa watching meaningless tv. Ideally, curling up on the sofa would have actually involved cuddling with his husband, but as Clint’s op had been extended twice, he had little hope for that. 

When he finally made it inside his apartment, he kicked off his shoes immediately, and abandoned his briefcase and keys on the hallway table. Phil was already in the bedroom removing his jacket and tie when he realized that the lights were already on in the apartment, and heavenly smells were coming from the kitchen. He dropped his tie on the dresser and rushed out of the room, sliding a bit on the wooden floors until he came to a stop at the kitchen. Clint looked over his shoulder at the noise and smiled at Phil.

Phil blinked at the sight of Clint in the kitchen, doing something that seemed complicated and also involved half of their cookware. “You’re home?” he breathed out in disbelief, “You’re finally home,” he said, smiling at his husband. Phil didn’t even pay attention to what was happening in the oven or on the stove. Phil simply crossed the kitchen and latched onto Clint, leaning against his back with arms wrapped around his chest, clinging to Clint in relief.

Clint laughed and turned his head to kiss Phil on the forehead. “Hi, honey. How was your day?”

Phil groaned in response, and wrapped his arms around the other man’s chest, clinging to Clint even more tightly. He changed his position slightly and pressed his face against Clint’s neck. “It was.”

“It just was? Yeah, I hear you. The op kinda felt like that too. So dinner’s not quite ready yet,” Clint said, smiling apologetically at Phil. “I probably should have gone for something faster, but I just wanted food that tastes good, isn’t fried, and isn’t remotely related to the crap I’ve been eating the last couple weeks.” 

“Smells good,” Phil mumbled from where he still had his face pressed against Clint’s neck. Though if asked, he probably would have struggled to describe the food Clint was cooking.

“Glad you approve,” Clint said in amusement, “You want to let go of me so that I can finish cooking?”

Phil lifted his head and gave Clint an unimpressed, and somewhat half-hearted glare before letting his head fall back down on Clint’s shoulder.

“I’ll take that as a no for now, but I have to get to the sink to drain the pasta. So you’re going to have to either let go or be prepared to come with me.”

Phil adjusted his grip, moving his hands and arms down to Clint’s waist where he was less likely to be at risk from the odd splash of hot water. Beyond that, he remained in his place, still attached to Clint.

“Really? This is your choice?” Clint asked incredulously. “Alrighty then.”

Clint carefully made his way over to the sink, pot in hand, without dislodging Phil in the process. After making it back to the stove with the pasta, he stayed put, mixing the contents of pots together, slowly putting together a meal that Phil still hadn’t bothered to identify. 

A few minutes went by before Clint sighed. “Phil, can you move? I need to check on the bread in the oven, and I didn’t make it back from that clusterfuck in one piece only to wind up in medical while bending to check the oven. 

Phil grudgingly moved a couple steps away, allowing Clint to pull the bread from the oven. As soon as Clint had finished that, Phil latched onto him again. “I thought you were going to move,” Clint said.

“I did,” Phil replied, his answer muffled by Clint’s shoulder. “Look, I’m all the way over here on your other side.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“It totally counts.”

“You know, when you ask me to move so that you can finish cooking, I actually do move,” Clint pointed out.

“Not my fault you didn’t specify how far I needed to move,” Phil replied with a laugh.

Laughing, Clint said, “I give up,” and turned around, finally pulling Phil into a proper hug. “Long day?”

“Long week. Weeks even. Thought it would never end,” Phil said as he settled into Clint’s hug.

“Yeah, I missed you too,” Clint said. He smiled and leaned in to kiss Phil, still hugging his husband. If Phil didn’t want him to let go, then who was he to argue with that?

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt: role reversal for [trope_bingo](http://trope-bingo.dreamwidth.org/).


End file.
